


Neighbors, Friends, Lovers

by PlzdontcallmeVal (vlh114)



Category: Barduil - Fandom, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22880848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vlh114/pseuds/PlzdontcallmeVal
Summary: Thranduil moves into the house next to Bard.
Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38





	Neighbors, Friends, Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> I put this aside to work on a new FiKi. I put the FiKi aside to finish this. I'm mostly satisfied with it.

As he sat on the little wooden bench in his driveway Bard watched the last light in the house next door go out. He tried not to make it look like he was watching the house next door by smoking a pipe, something he really didn’t like to do; he hated the smell on his clothes and skin, but he thought it looked less suspicious than if he was outside doing nothing. 

In the house next door lived a man and his teenage son. A van full of furniture had appeared one Saturday afternoon while Bard was mowing the lawn. Two men had taken most of the day to unload it. A week later a car pulled into the driveway driven by a man, tall and thin with an amazing head of long, straight, silver-blond hair which he kept down and mostly in front of his face. He had kept his head tipped away from Bard, who was raking up grass clippings in the side-yard, as he walked up the short, stone path and into the house. But Bard had seen just enough of the man’s face to admit that he was a little bit smitten. The son, who had run back and forth to the car for their suitcases, was also thin, but shorter with golden blond hair braided in several places and held back by strips of brown leather.

After a quick trip to the local bakery for one of their delicious pies Bard rang the doorbell on the house next door. When the door opened Bard’s heart jumped into his throat, but he quickly recovered when he realized that it wasn’t the man but his son who had opened the door. Before Bard could utter a word the young man called, “Ada, someone’s here to see you.”

“I am busy,” came the response from inside the house.

The man’s voice was deep, each word pronounced carefully, they tickled something inside Bard’s stomach. “Well,” Bard said as he handed over the boxed pie, “welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Bard from next door. Don’t hesitate to come ‘round if you need anything.”

“I’m Legloas. He’s Thranduil. Sorry about him he’s…” the teen shrugged as he took the box, but he didn’t provide any further explanation before he shut the door.

He had a name and a voice. That would have to be enough for the time being. But his dreams became filled with images of the beautiful, blond man next door.

The first of the falling leaves that signaled the beginning of autumn swirled in the breeze around Bard’s feet pulling him out of this daydream. There was nothing left to look at in the house next door but before he went back inside Bard puffed one last smoke ring into the chilly, late summer air. As he went he thought about the man, Thranduil. He seemed to be a bit of a recluse. Bard hadn’t seen him outside the house since the day he moved in. If he worked, he did so from home; vans marked with the names of various courier services delivered packages daily. The local grocer, who Bard knew by sight, brought groceries once a week. And every Wednesday afternoon a landscaper came of do whatever was needed to the lawn and gardens. There had to be a reason and Bard was determined to find out what it was.

***

While Bard was pretending not to watch the house next door he could not know that the man in the house was watching him. 

The last light had been Legloas turning off the one in the kitchen before making his way, in the dark, down the hall. He stopped in the doorway of his father’s room to ask, “Why don’t you just go introduce yourself. He watches the house trying to see you, you watch him whenever he’s outside. It’s quite ridiculous behavior for two supposedly grown men.”

“Go to bed,” Thranduil replied but he did not turn from the window.

“He wouldn’t bite, you know.”

“Don’t you have homework to do?”

“Finished it. He seemed like a nice man. The pie was good, apple, your favorite. You could ask him where he got it.”

“The name of the bakery was on the box.”

“You could tell him you’ve forgotten it. It might lead to the start of a conversation.”

“About pie.”

“About whatever you wanted.”

“You know I am no good at small talk.”

“Talk about that then.”

“Go to bed.”

“Let’s invite them to dinner.”

“Go to bed.”

“Next Saturday.”

“Bed. Now. You. Go.”

“I’ll pick-up the pie.”

“Legolas…”

“Going to bed. Good-night, Ada.”

“Good night, ion nin.”

“One last thing though…”

“Yes?” Thranduil finally turned his head to look at his son.

“Do you want to ask him or do you want me to?” The teen ran from the doorway just before the pillow left his father’s hand.

After retrieving the pillow from where it had landed on the floor Thranduil placed it back on the bed and went back to looking out the window. Lights flickered from behind the curtains of what Thranduil assumed was the living room. He wondered what program Bard was watching and if he would enjoy it too. 

As he got ready for bed Thranduil thought about how much he would love to walk across the side yard, knock on the neighbor’s door and talk to the gorgeous man next door. Whenever he heard Bard laugh while outside playing with his children Thranduil’s heart jumped in his chest. He seemed like a patient, kind, caring and loving father. It didn’t hurt that he had a smoking hot body too. Thranduil had nearly drooled the first time he had seen Bard mowing his lawn without a shirt on. The shimmer of sweat on the rippling six-pack of ab muscles caused Thranduil to stumble over his words during the conference call he had been on at the time. He fantasized about Bard’s strong hands holding him, Bard’s fit body on top of him. But he couldn’t do it. Bard would see the scars and turn away in disgust. It was better to watch and dream.

****

_Thwack!_ The arrow Legolas had let fly hit the target just left of center.

“Not bad,” Bard called from the side of the garage where he had been weeding the flower garden. “Try opening your stance just a little bit more.”

“Thanks,” Legolas said as he approached his neighbor.

“Nice bow.” _Expensive, _Bard thought.

“It was my father’s. He used to shoot and thought I’d love it. It sat in the closet for a while before I decided to give it a chance. I’m hoping to make the archery team this year. I was an alternate last year but never got to compete.”

“Why don’t you ask him to show you?”

“I have but he won’t.”

“Why not?”

“He has his reasons.”

“He doesn’t shoot anymore?”

“He gave it up.”

“Why?”

“You’d have to ask him.”

“I wish I could. I was on the archery team myself when I was at school.”

“Any good?”

“The best,” Bard bragged.

“You gave it up too?”

“Yeah, sadly, university, work, kids, life.”

“Wanna try it?”

“I’d love to.” Bard took the offered bow.

“Let me get the arrow out of the target first.”

“Okay.” Bard waited until Legolas was clear before he walked over to the spot the teen had stood in when he shot. From the quiver where it hung on a nail hammered into the deck rail Bard chose an arrow. He positioned his feet shoulder width apart, rolled his shoulders to relax as he relaxed his grip on the bow handle. After he nocked the arrow and positioned his fingers on the string he brought the bow back to vertical. With a deep breath he drew back the string but had to relax again when his position wasn’t quite right. “It’s been a while,” he explained to Legolas.

“Take your time.” Legolas knew his father had been watching since the second he and Bard started talking. The longer Bard took the better the show would be.

With the bow where he wanted it Bard sighted the target. He held his breath as he let the string slip out of his fingers. The arrow hit dead center.

Legolas clapped, “Wow! Great shot!”

“Thanks,” Bard smiled, relieved he didn’t make a fool of himself by sending the arrow off into the woods.

Legolas took his bow back, “You should give lessons.”

“Haha,” Bard laughed, “I’m not that good.”

“I bet you’re just as good as my ada.”

“He was good?”

“He has a box full of medals and trophies.”

“Impressive.” Bard wished he could show his neighbor his own box of awards.

“Can you help me with my stance?”

“Sure, the weeds aren’t going anywhere.”

Bard watched Legolas shoot, suggested some changes in his foot placement and told him to relax and have fun. Legolas didn’t hit the bullseye every time but got close most of the time.

***

As he watched his son and Bard from the window a pang of jealousy, short-lived but strong, was in Thranduil’s heart. He wanted to be out there showing his son how to correct his stance. He’d stood at the back door a hundred times but couldn’t bring himself to walk through it. Through the break in the curtains Thranduil could see the two talking but could no longer hear what was being said. After a few minutes they parted. Bard went back to his garden while Legolas entered the house.

“Ada, did you see?” Legolas called. “Isn’t he great? He said he would teach me.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why will he teach you? What does he expect in return?”

“He doesn’t want anything in return. He said he’d like to teach his kids to shoot too so he’ll teach us all at the same time.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You won’t teach me so why can’t Bard?” It was a low blow, Legolas knew it but he didn’t apologize.

“He pities you.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Legolas wanted to add, ‘he pities you’ but stopped himself. He said, “I asked him and he said it would be fun. He’s going to get out his old bow and shoot with me. I told him he could use the yard anytime he wanted to.”

“That was very nice of you.”

“Yeah. He’s also having a bar-b-que tomorrow and invited us over. I told him I would go but that you weren’t available. He really wants to meet you. Can you leave the house for a few minutes just this one time?”

“I’m sorry, ion-nin, you know I can’t.”

“Fine. Whatever. I think I’ll invite Aragorn over then.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You know why not. You can go to his house next week.”

“You’re impossible.” But Legolas wasn’t angry. The doctors had told him that it would take time for his father to heal, it just seemed like it was taking a long time. He left the room without another word.

Thranduil didn’t know if it hurt more that his son’s bedroom door closed quietly than it would have if there had been a great bang. Absentmindedly he began to trace the scars with his fingertips. He always started in the same place; the corner of his left eye diagonally up to his hair line down the side of his face by his ear then down to his jaw. The feather light touches continued across to his chin then up to the corner of his mouth. There was another, shorter scar on the side of his nose that ran up to the inside corner of his left eye. He vividly remembered how the scars came to be; he wished he could forget but knew he never would.

*

Working late had become a habit Thranduil didn’t want to break. But one night he had come home to a house in flames. Legolas had managed to get out his bedroom window and met him, unharmed, in the driveway. But when he realized that his wife was not out of the house Thranduil went in. The kitchen fire had spread quickly through the old house. Flames licked at the doorway from the kitchen to the living room. The flames were just at the corner of the sofa under the front window but the loveseat across from it was almost entirely engulfed. The heat was almost unbearable as he made his way past the tv stand. The stairs creaked when he put his weight on them. He made it halfway up before the stairs to the second level collapsed. 

He woke up in the hospital. Legolas was the one to tell him that she had not survived. 

The left side of his face and body were covered in bandages. He thought he would be numb from damage to his nerves but his body still felt like it was on fire. Every bandage change was agony. By the end of the first week in the burn unit he never wanted to hear the phrase, ‘it could’ve been worse’ ever again.

There had been so many surgeries Thranduil had lost count. It had taken almost two and a half years in hospitals and rehabilitation centers before he was ready to be released. Legolas had stayed with friends of the family the entire time. They saw each other as often as they could. It broke Thranduil’s heart that he couldn’t be with his son through his grieving. But he knew his son would get the love and support he needed. Legolas was the only visitor Thranduil would see so eventually he was the only one that came. He owed his son so much he felt awful for not being able to provide it.

When Thranduil looked out the window again Bard was gone.

***

The next few weeks Bard was as good as his word. He was in the back yard setting up with his children before nine. After ‘training’ Bard would invite Legolas to lunch with his family. Bard always made an extra plate, so Legolas could bring it to his father.

Thranduil grew to appreciate the effort when at first he had been put off by it; he didn’t need anybody’s pity or charity. But the food was good and he usually cleaned the plate.

“He doesn’t have to do this,” Thranduil said to Legolas the first time he was brought a grilled veggie burger and side salad.

“He wants you to feel like you’re included. He likes you despite all the bad stuff I keep telling him about you.”

“He likes me” Thranduil scoffed. “He doesn’t even know me.”

“He knows what I tell him.”

“And what exactly do you tell him?”

“That you’re stubborn and annoying. Don’t tell me you haven’t been listening. I talk especially loud so you’ll hear.”

“Did you tell him about me?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that. It’s up to you to tell him about that or not. You never should’ve looked in the mirror that day. You weren’t ready. But I’ll say it for the millionth time, there is nothing wrong with you. You look great. The only scars are in your head.”

“You should go. Your lunch is getting cold. Tell Bard I said, ‘thank you’.”

“You know, you could open the window and tell him yourself.”

“Out!”

“I’m going.” But before he left the room Legolas opened the window on the side of the house closest to where Bard had set up his grill.

As he closed the window again Thranduil thought that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea, as long as the window screen hid him mostly from Bard’s view and the children weren’t around. 

***

The next Sunday Legolas went to his friend, Aragorn’s house to show off what he’d learned though he told his father he was going to practice. Thranduil had seen someone he assumed to be Bard’s ex-wife drive off with the kids and Bard was in the yard raking leaves when Thranduil gathered up the courage to open the window. At first he only watched Bard rake up small piles of leaves then bend to scoop them with his hands to put them in the bag. “Excuse me!” Thranduil called causing Bard to look around in wonder at who might be speaking and if they were speaking to him or not. “Over here. In the window!”

The screen was still down but Bard could see Thranduil in the window. “Oh, hello.” He moved closer so they wouldn’t have to shout.

“Hello.”

“Can I help you? Legolas isn’t in the yard today. Are you alright? Do you need something?”

“No, I do not need anything. I was just thinking that there may be an easier way for you to do what you are doing.”

Unless he wanted to spend money on a noisy leaf-blower, which he didn’t, Bard knew of no other way to rake leaves. “You know an easier way to rake leaves?”

“No, getting the leaves into the bag. I had an idea.”

“I’ve tried laying the bag down, if that’s what you’re thinking but it’s hard to do by myself. The bag keeps moving.”

“No, snow shovel.”

Bard shook his head, “I’m not following.”

“Use the snow shovel like a dustpan. Rake the leaves onto it then dump them into the bag. No more bending.”

“That’s brilliant. I can’t believe I never thought of that.” It was a total lie; he always used the shovel the previous autumns he just liked bending over so Thranduil could see his ass. “You wouldn’t want to come out and help? I’d let you hold the shovel.”

“Sorry. I like watching you work.” Thranduil couldn’t believe he’d just said that, “I cannot believe I said that. I am sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You can watch me all you want. I hope you like what you see.”

Thranduil liked it very much, “Yes.”

“Good.”

There was a slight pause before Thranduil could think of something else to say, “Legolas’s shooting is coming along nicely.”

“He just needs a little more patience. He thinks he can raise the bow, aim and shoot in a second. He needs to take his time.”

“I will talk to him.”

“If he can master that he shouldn’t have any trouble making the team in spring.”

Thranduil agreed but had run out of things to talk about, “I should let you get back to work.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to show me how it’s done?”

“I am sure you can manage.”

“Thanks again for the tip,” Bard didn’t want the conversation to end either.

“You are welcome,” Thranduil shut the window.

Bard went to the garage for a shovel.

**

The next few Sundays, after Bard’s ex had picked up the children, Thranduil would open the window to say hello. Bard didn’t get much yard work done but he didn’t care. He learned that Thranduil was a financial consultant for companies that did business internationally. Thranduil learned that Bard was the director in the transportation department of a food and beverage company. They talked about what universities they attended, their time on the archery teams, what movies they liked (their tastes differed greatly, Thranduil preferred romantic comedies while Bard liked action movies), food, the changing weather and their children. Each man admitted to himself that the other was somebody they could definitely fall in love with. 

Their routine came to an end, however, with the first heavy snowfall which left over a foot of snow on the ground. Bard no longer had a reason to go outside since the leaves that had never made it into a bag were covered with snow. And even though Thranduil would see Bard outside shoveling his driveway there was a yard full of snow between them. 

The worst storm of the season hit on a Friday. The weather channel Thranduil watched said it would be bad because the storm had stalled over the area. The lights went out and the television shut off while Thranduil was in the living room with Legolas. Before Thranduil could uncurl himself from his corner of the sofa the back-up generator automatically kicked on restoring power.

“Bard’s house will be cold and dark,” Legolas said, trying to show his concern.

“I expect so,” his father replied. “He should invest in a generator.”

“Won’t help him now though, will it?”

“No, but later it would.”

“The kids are probably frightened.”

“Legolas…” His son was so transparent.

“What?” Legolas asked, playing innocent.

“No.”

Legolas kept pushing, “Tilda gets scared of the dark.”

“No.”

“The power could be out for days.”

“Or it will come back on in a few minutes.”

“If it doesn’t?”

“There are hotels.”

“They’re expensive and will probably fill up fast.”

“They better move fast then.”

Before Legolas could respond there was a knock on the door. He hurried to open it.

Bard stood in the doorway; his hair dusted with snow. “Would you happen to have any extra flashlights or candles?”

“Ada, where are the flashlights and candles? And do we have any extra blankets?” Legolas yelled to his father who had left the living room.

“I didn’t ask for blankets.”

“Shhh.” Legolas whispered to Bard. “Ada!”

“Oh, for mercy’s sake. Fine.”

Legolas turned to Bard, a sly smile on his lips, “Ada would like it very much if you and your family would stay with us while the power is out.”

“Legolas…”

“You sound just like Ada.” Legolas whispered, “This may be the only chance you’re going to get. I’d advise you to take it.”

“I’ll be right back.”

In less than half an hour Bard was back at Thranduil’s house with his children in tow. Each one carried a backpack and a sleeping bag.

“Ada’s either in his room or his office.” Legolas told Bard.

Bard nodded. Leaving his children with Legolas he went in search of Thranduil. He passed a small bedroom, clearly Legolas’s if the mess of clothes on the floor was anything to go by, a larger bedroom and the bathroom. At the only closed door Bard stopped. He knocked lightly, “Thranduil?”

“Yes.” The door was unlocked. Thranduil wanted Bard to try the handle but he was terrified all the same.

“Thank you for letting us stay tonight.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll go to the hardware store tomorrow for a generator.”

“If you wish.”

Believing the door to be locked Bard didn’t bother trying to open it. “Have you eaten? If not, I could whip something up.”

“Legolas and I have had dinner but if you and your children are hungry feel free to use anything you find in the kitchen.”

“Thank you.” Bard was desperate not to let the conversation end. He felt like if he did his chance would be lost forever. “I noticed that the layout of your house is nothing like mine.”

“No?”

“Well, except that when you come in my front door, you’re also in the living room. My bedroom is where your kitchen is. My kitchen is where your office is. The bathroom and the other 2 bedrooms are on the opposite side.” There was no response from the other side of the door. “Thranduil?”

“Yes. I’m here. I’m trying to think of the appropriate thing to say. Despite all our talks I really am terrible at conversation.”

That made Bard smile, “Nonsense. You’re doing great. I don’t know what I would’ve said either. ‘That’s nice’ or ‘isn’t that interesting’ seem kind of lame.”

Thranduil laughed causing Bard’s heart to jump. He wanted to ask if he could open the door but thought he would be rebuked. He was just about to sit on the floor when he heard, “come in”.

“I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Come in. The door is not locked.”

Slowly Bard pushed down the lever to open the door. Thranduil was standing by the window, his back turned. Bard closed the door but stayed near it, “I won’t come any closer without your permission and I’ll leave any time you ask.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve really missed our talks.”

“I have also.”

“You know what? I’m just going to sit here on the floor to lessen the temptation to spin you around and kiss you.”

“Kiss me?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m disfigured.”

“I don’t care. From the moment I laid eyes on you I had to meet you. You’ve got me under some kind of spell. There is something about you that makes me crazy.”

“Once you see me, you’ll think differently.”

“You’re right. I’ll want you even more. But even if I were blind, I would still love you.”

“Love me? Now you’re being ridiculous. Maybe you should go.” The emotion being talked about hit close to Thranduil’s heart, but he felt caged in, unable to move in the small corner of the room he had put himself in. He wanted to get up, move around but didn’t dare.

“Yes. I love you. From what Legolas says, from what I’ve heard, our talks, I have fallen in love with you.”

“You really are crazy.”

“I told you I was.”

“There was a fire.” Might as well get it out now, sooner better than later.

“A fire?”

“In my old house, where we used to live. Something happened in the kitchen, a short in the wiring.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I should have been there.”

“Then Legolas might not have any parents.”

“Parents? What kind of parent am I when I won’t even go out the back door to teach my son how to shoot?”

“Then do it. Nobody is watching, nobody would see.”

“You watch.”

“Yeah. You’re hot.”

Thranduil flinched at the term.

“Sorry,” Bard apologized, “poor choice of words. You’re attractive. You don’t realize it, but I could see you through the window. I never saw any flaws.”

“They are there.”

“Show them to me.”

“What?”

“Turn around and let me see you.”

“No.” Thranduil wrapped his arms around himself preparing for an attack that would never come.

“Whatever is going on in that beautiful head of your…no, I can’t tell you what you feel is wrong. I can only tell you I won’t run away. I will tell you that I will still find you attractive.”

“No, you won’t.”

Bard stood, “Why don’t you let me be the one to decide that.”

“No.”

“I should go then. I’m sorry you don’t trust me. I hope I’ll be able to earn that someday.” Bard was just about to open the door but a touch to his back stopped him. 

Thranduil had moved quickly across the small room. “See. I am hideous.”

“I see no flaws. You’re beautiful.”

“I don’t see that.”

“I’m going to touch you. Say the word and I’ll stop.”

Thranduil did not say, ‘stop’ as Bard’s fingers touched his jaw on the left side. He wanted to get it over with. Then Bard would be out of his life. They could move again. He could go back to hiding.

“I see no scars. I feel no difference in the smooth softness of your skin.”

When Bard’s lips touched his jaw Thranduil shivered but didn’t try to push Bard away. It had been so long since he had any sort of physical contact with another person, he wanted to drink Bard in. The scruff of Bard’s beard scratched his skid heightening the sensations he was feeling. He thought if he moved Bard would interpret it as a sign of discomfort and stop. 

Bard thought he’d feel Thranduil’s hands on his shoulders pushing him away. He did not expect the hands to continue on behind him then pull him closer. When he placed a kiss to Thranduil’s lips Bard heard a moan and felt him physically relax into his touch. When Thranduil opened his mouth to deepen the kiss Bard thought he’d found heaven.

Just as Thranduil lifted his leg to wrap around Bard the door burst open barely missing the two men. “Ada!” Legolas stopped short, “Um, never mind.” He shut the door behind him.

But the spell had been broken. “We should go,” Thranduil said but rest his head on Bard’s shoulder.

“Yeah, to the bedroom so I can take you apart properly.” He could feel Thranduil’s chuckle.

“They are waiting for us.”

“They’re going to have to wait a little bit longer. I’ve wanted to kiss you for months. I’m going to need some time to calm down.”

“Oh,” Thranduil got the hint, “of course. When you are ready.”

“Thanks.”

***

Later that night with the children sound asleep in the living room, Bard lay with Thranduil on his bed. “I was going to leave her. We had been fighting for quite some time. Neither of us was happy.”

Bard kept silent.

“It was going to be a rather friendly divorce. We would’ve shard custody. We were going to sell the house, split the profit evenly. I’d have given her financial support until she remarried, or Legolas turned eighteen, whichever came first.”

“That sounds fair.”

“When I was in the hospital I saw what the fire had done to my face. The nurse was in the middle of changing the bandages when the alarm sounded in the unit next door. She rushed out. I knew there was a mirror in the drawer of the side table. I was horrified by what I saw. That is the image I still see when I look in the mirror now.”

“Do you believe me when I tell you that I see nothing wrong with you?”

“I believe you do not see anything wrong. Legolas has been saying the same thing but in my head I still see the damage.” 

Bard suddenly thought that Thranduil’s inability to see for himself that there was nothing wrong might cause a problem in their relationship, “It may be way too early in this relationship to ask but would you consider going to therapy?”

“I have considered that many times.”

“I could go with you.”

“I will consider it more seriously.” There was another truth Thranduil wanted to tell Bard, “The fire happened the day before we were supposed to sign the divorce documents. She had been upset that I had chosen to work late that night. She accused me of having an affair.”

“But you weren’t.”

“No. Well, yes, I was. There was a man I was very attracted to. I had been fighting my sexuality for some time. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. It wasn’t fair to her either.”

“You wanted to be with him?”

“I did. I felt terrible for lying to her. I was falling behind in my work so I had stayed late a few times. He started to stay late too. He caught me in the copier room one night. He told me how attracted he was to me. He kissed me. I tried to pull away, but he knew I didn’t really mean it. I let him kiss me the second time. We never had sex, but we did do other things.”

“I understand what you mean. Where is he now?”

“Probably still works there, I guess. I haven’t been in touch.”

“Do you want to see him?”

“No,” Thranduil didn’t even have to think about it, “at one time I thought we could’ve had something but not anymore. He was too arrogant. I think he saw me as a prize to be won. He put a lot of pressure on me to have sex with him, but I always held out. I think that sex was all he ever wanted from me. I’m happy with where I am right now.”

“I could make you a lot happier.”

“Not yet. I’m not ready.”

“Is it because of the fire or because it would be your first time?”

“Both but mostly because It would be my first time.”

“I’d be gentle.”

“What if I didn’t want you to be?”

“You’re killing me, you know that?”

“Go to sleep.”

***

It was after six months of therapy, when Legolas was at Aragorn’s and Bard’s children were with their mother, before Bard had Thranduil under him moaning, ‘yes, yes’ and when Bard heard, ‘take me to the bedroom’ he didn’t hesitate to carry Thranduil bridal style down the hall.


End file.
